


and i'm captain of this sinking boat now

by makesmewannatsss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, also this is how i envision a split would go down i tried very hard to be realistic, captain niall, if you can't tell i don't think that a split has actually taken place, inspired by Shirtsleeves, so i apologize for the lack of smut but this is niall's pov because CAPTAIN, this is still in 3rd person though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesmewannatsss/pseuds/makesmewannatsss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are drowning in the ocean. Niall tries to save them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i'm captain of this sinking boat now

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea since I first really understood the lyrics of Shirtsleeves by our lovely shipper Ed Sheeran. I also used it as a sounding board for feelings given all the breakup talk that the fandom’s been rife with lately. Hopefully this demonstrates that we would know if a breakup has, in fact, taken place. And I don’t think that that’s the case.
> 
> I also struggled for a while to come up with a conflict that would be realistic for the reaction that ensues. I like to think that this is. Please let me know if you feel one way or the other!
> 
> (Okay, back to my WIP now!)

i.

It starts in November. Niall is at some fashion release show with Liam (Why are they making them go to these events? Fashion was always Harry’s thing.) and he just leans over, ever so subtly, and whispers, “I think they’re having problems.”

Given that he’s busy watching fashion models strut down the catwalk and sipping his beer, he’s really not very focused on what’s coming out of his friend’s mouth. “Who?”

“Them. I think they’re having problems.”

And it hits him then (but he’s no less confused) because the specified _them_ is their public codename for Harry and Louis as an entity. You know, since they can’t say “our best mates, the ones who are fucking and living together and dreaming about babies.” It’s become such a thing, a thing between him and Liam and Zayn, that the pronoun has lost any other meaning. So to hear that _they’re_ having problems is really a bit fucking odd.

Harry and Louis, the Styles-Tomlinson household, they don’t have problems. They bicker and fight like any other established couple that has been together for four and a half years, but they always end up getting enamored and turned on by the argument at some point and one drags the other into an empty room (or sometimes not, Niall shudders in memory) and that’s that. Sometimes they spend nights apart. Sometimes Louis goes home to Doncaster and Harry jets off to LA, but at the same time they both have professional excuses for leaving. And sometimes they fight because of the pressure. Sometimes Harry just asks why can’t they break the news now and just tweet it and shock the world (fewer would be shocked than they think, Niall knows), but that ends with them crying together rather than yelling together.

The situation is far from ideal, it was never ideal, but they fit and make it work. Niall can’t imagine it any other way and he’s floored to imagine that it is. Much less to hear Liam’s nonchalant comment about it while Barbara Palvin (Shit, is it possible to hide? They’re in the fucking front row, could no one have warned him?) turns at the end and models her new line of lingerie.

“What do you mean, ‘having problems’?”

Liam laughs as if they were discussing Zayn and Louis’ shenanigans at the recent album release party (No, the two had been lectured, it is not appropriate to run around writing ‘twat’ on all of your coworkers’ foreheads, even if you were half-pissed and half-high, which you shouldn’t even be getting in the first place.) and leans closer in to Niall. “He spent the night at Zayn’s a few nights ago. The other told me.”

He’s going to assume that it was Louis who ran off to Zayn’s because he knows that Harry would have come to him or Ben. And “the other” is, of course, Harry himself.

But still. “So? He and Zayn have their little sleepovers all the time.”

“He left in anger, Niall.”

And yeah, that’s out of character. But Niall can’t imagine in what universe going to your best mate’s house, ten minutes away from your own, indicates that you’re having problems with your boyfriend worth talking about, so he puts it out of his mind for the time being.

ii.

They call a meeting two weeks later.

Meetings weren’t uncommon occurrences for them. In fact, they were more like barbecues at Niall’s or Zayn’s or Liam’s house, because of course they try to minimize the time that Harry and Louis’ location could be discovered by one of Harry’s idiot pap stalkers or the like. These meetings were disguised as a gathering of friends, of brothers, and used to discuss Very Important or Urgent Things without the presence of a management employee or agent. But the thing is, they hadn’t called meetings like this in a while. The last was before they had left for the last tour, nearly a year ago. It was when they had all decided that something had to give in terms of their image and autonomy, and they had decided to stage a leak. The stunt, a truly hidden one, where only about ten people knew the truth, had been executed fantastically, of course, as only they know how to do. It had also failed, though, because what are ten people, relatively powerless in the scheme of things, able to do against billionaires and the world? Not much.

So yes, when Harry called him and asked if they could all use his backyard, that he’d bring the food for dinner, Niall got a bit suspicious. They’re about to embark on another tour again, though, so maybe someone has something up his sleeve. It certainly wouldn’t be a first. So Niall cleans house because he’s Niall and they’re his boys and if they’re going to have a meeting then it’s going to be done damn correctly.

They file in slowly, all before seven. First Liam, because he’s always the most punctual, and then Zayn. They wait around for _them_ but _them_ never comes. Louis knocks on the door, alone and a bit fidgety. Niall is concerned, but when he opens his mouth to ask what’s up Louis starts talking a mile a minute about his weekend in Doncaster, how the Rovers are slated to do fantastically (he hears this at least once a week), and how the entire Tomlinson-Deakin crew sends their love (Louis rarely talks about his family.).

Regardless, Niall takes the beer that Louis brought and puts it in the garden’s cooler.

Harry shows up at 6:59, burgers and buns and condiments and crisps in hand. “Sorry,” he says as Niall opens the door for him. “Line at Tesco’s. Louis brought drinks, right?”

Harry is as relaxed as Louis was on edge, and for that, Niall is even more concerned. They’re always in sync. Niall always figured that it was a law of the universe, created especially for them, that Harry must feel what Louis felt and that Louis must feel what Harry felt. So this isn’t normal at all.

He tries to shake it off anyway. “Yeah. There’re two six-packs in the backyard, let’s get this going.”

So Harry starts to cook, because he always does the cooking, whether for them or for the group, and they make idle chatter while he does. There’s the unspoken rule that absolutely no serious conversation will take place anywhere near an open flame at these meetings, which bothers some people because it means no cigarettes or joints, and others because it means no multi-tasking, so it cancels out well enough.

“I want to _dance_ this time,” Harry offers as Niall throws out a question regarding tour rehearsals.

And at that, the entire group roars into laughter because if anyone is talking about dancing, it shouldn’t be Harry.

“Tell you what,” Liam offers through tears. “Let’s, for the fuck of it, break out into Best Song Ever choreography. And let’s do it as a joke, yeah, mate? But that’s it. Because we are serious artists catering to a serious fanbase and selling serious merchandise, and that means no dancing.”

It’s a joke. Well, not the Best Song Ever choreography, because that sounds rather fun and they really only have to get Zayn onboard to revisit his inner Veronica, but Liam’s bit about the fanbase. They’ve long accepted, that when the video failed at its purpose and blew over, that they wouldn’t be able to move on from where they are now professionally. The powers that be hold far too much sway in that matter. Maybe someday, they all say wistfully. Maybe they’ll re-sign their contracts at the end of the year. Maybe they’ll break for a bit and set a specific date where they’ll come back and put their all, their own all, in and give it another go. But that must be for another meeting, because Niall would know if they were going to talk about their images by now.

Harry passes out the burgers, decked out individually just as they each like them. (Harry is a treasure, Niall thinks.) They’re all sat in the garden, spread out in a circle on Niall’s lawn furniture.

“Dig in,” Harry urges, taking a swig of his beer.

They eat for a few minutes, but there’s an air of…not tension, because none of them are ever tense with each other. It just isn’t a thing anymore. Sometimes they’re tense as One Direction, but there are so many extenuating factors that come into play there that it’s to be expected. But Harry, Louis, Niall, Zayn, and Liam? No. They’re brothers. Well, three brothers and two lovers. It’s an air of confusion that surrounds them now, then.

Louis clears his throat after a while and sets his drink down. Harry catches his eye (the telepathic lovebirds that they are) and follows suit, causing the rest of the three to do the same.

“Okay,” Harry says. “So this is a meeting.”

“We were aware, mate,” Zayn replies dryly.

“And, um, Lou – Louis and I called it.”

Huh. Okay. “Thought it was just you?” Niall asks.

Liam shrugs. “Louis rang me about it.”

“Well, it’s both of us,” Louis says as he pulls himself further up onto the couch, tucking his legs under each other.

“Right, so we have something to say and we wanted to tell you three first –”

“Not _first_ ,” Louis interrupts.

Harry waves him off. “First beyond the given. Can we stick to how this was divided?”

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles softly.

Niall is still confused, because meetings had been almost always been strictly professional matters, after all, they were _meetings_ for a reason and were always deliberately isolated from the rest of the world because of that. Today it seems like there’s a bit of a personal agenda.

Niall glances around their circle and finds Harry steeled, focused on the coffee table in front of him. Louis is still within himself, still fidgeting like he was at the door. And Liam and Zayn, yeah, they look worse than anyone. Liam’s got his face hidden in a hand and Zayn is reaching for a cigarette.

“No smoking,” Niall spits out without thinking, remembering the rules.

“Jesus Christ, Niall, give me this one time,” Zayn snaps. He lights the cigarette and takes a drag.

Niall doesn’t understand.

Harry rubs his face in his hands, clearly trying to keep his composure. “Can you let us do the talking, please, guys?”

Zayn puffs the smoke out. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Keep going,” Niall adds.

“So we wanted to tell you three first,” Harry repeats. “And know that we’re going to start telling other people, people who it isn’t going to be fun to tell, tomorrow.” He gestures to Louis to continue.

“Not that it’s fun to tell anyone,” Louis says. “And just, like. This shouldn’t change anything. On the tour, which we still have a good two months till, or anything else. So we’re not asking anything of you professionally.”

And now Niall has a lump in his throat and half a mind to leap up and snatch a cig for himself from Zayn, rules be damned. He was hoping for good news. He didn’t know what that news would be, but _This shouldn’t change anything_ is nowhere near good news. ( _This shouldn’t change anything_ is scarily reminiscent of what his parents said when they announced that they were getting divorced.)

Harry nods slowly and braces his hands on his knees. “Louis and I have split up.”

The wind is knocked out of Niall’s lungs. He sits there, letting a long breath out during the silence that follows. Liam’s lowered his head to his knees and is just lying there, Zayn is staring off to the side, away from the four of them, finishing his cigarette.

And Louis snaps. “Oh now don’t try and make us fucking comfort you all, I’m sure you know we’re not exactly in the mood for that.”

Liam sits up, eyes red. “Sorry.”

Louis looks like he wants to respond, but sets his jaw and looks at Harry expectantly.

Harry just leans back and rolls his eyes, seeming like he’s trying to play the reactions off as a joke. “Come on now, Daddy and Papa still love you three.”

But the silence just gets worse at that, and Louis looks like he’s going to either blow up or burst into tears. Because they’ve been talking for years about how Harry was going to be Daddy someday and Louis would be Papa, and now…well, now apparently now that’s not going to be happening ever.

Harry backtracks immediately. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t funny.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Louis says softly.

Zayn throws his cigarette butt behind him. (Normally, Niall would complain about Zayn sullying his lawn, but that’s not really a very pressing issue right now.) He gives his face a once over with his palm and asks, “How long?”

Louis shrugs. “Three days.”

Niall’s eyes bug out. “Three days? How did you get three days without – without saying anything?”

Harry toys with the bottle on the table in front of him. “Well, we wanted to make sure. Before stirring up any drama.”

“We were sure from the second it happened,” Louis says, still quiet.

“Right, but still.” Seconds pass. “Is anyone actually surprised?” Harry asks.

Niall raises his hand immediately (hand-raising is a thing that happens during meetings) and is floored to see that he’s the only one who does so.

“Not surprised,” Liam says. “But that doesn’t mean that I was expecting to hear it.”

“Yeah,” Zayn adds. “Just. Hearing it, it’s weird.”

Four pairs of eyes turn to Niall.

“I want to ask you if you’re okay, but I’m not going to coddle you,” Louis says simply.

“Are _you_ okay? The two of you. What the hell happened?” Niall asks, louder than he’d intended.

Harry and Louis shift, exchanging looks like they always have. And this isn’t right. They’re still looking at each other like that, in their special way, and people who look at each other in special ways shouldn’t go around telling their best mates that they’ve “split up.” It’s just not right.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Louis reassures him (and fails miserably at it).

“We’re still on good terms, lads. We’re professionals. Friends, even. Just know that this is a mutual thing, we discussed it.” Harry smiles, trying to nudge toward the joke he just made (to one of their classic Sugarscape interviews from way back when, of course).

Louis furrows his brows. “Still not funny.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Anyway.” Louis turns his attention away from Harry and back to the rest of the boys. “You just needed to know that, so we told you.” He takes a shaky breath and continues. “We each might need someone to hold our hands through the next few big meetings with everyone else, okay?” (Louis is asking for help, explicitly asking, and he never does that. It isn’t Louis.) “If you could do that.”

Liam looks at him with the sort of loving and caring eyes that only Liam can give. “Of course, Louis. Anything. Anything you need, either of you, we’re all here.”

But then Niall is standing up, because no one is paying attention to the very obvious elephant in the room, and he needs them to. “I don’t get this, I don’t get this, I don’t get this.” He repeats the phrase three times until he runs out of breath. “You fight for three days and call it quits. No, you don’t see it, you’re fine you two are fine, you’re still looking at each other like you always have, you’re still making plans together, you’re still bouncing off of each other like always. Get your shit together and _be fine again_.”

He’s met with more silence (That really is the theme for today’s meeting, isn’t it?) and Zayn shoots up to his feet to counter him. “Shut the fuck up, okay, Niall?” he says lowly. “Stop talking before you make things worse, just go cool off or something. ‘S not your fight.”

“It’s my fucking house, don’t tell me to walk away.”

“Maybe we should have done this at home,” Harry says over their argument.

“It’s not _home_ anymore, Harry, you have to stop with this,” Louis counters, his own voice close to breaking.

“I’m sorry,” Harry repeats for the hundredth time that evening.

Liam just whistles between his hands and gets everyone’s attention again. “Sit down,” he orders, and Niall and Zayn obey. “Okay, that’s all I have, I’m genuinely at a loss for what else to say. Just calm down, especially you, Niall, because I fucking mentioned this a few weeks ago, you shouldn’t be so floored, and let’s move on from here.”

Harry leans over to clap a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “I appreciate you.”

“Me too,” Louis adds.

“Understand this,” Harry says. “It didn’t work out with us in the end, but like we said, we’re not enemies all of a sudden. We’ll always be important to each other.”

“I’ll always love him,” Louis says softly. “It just didn’t work.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers. “Love doesn’t disappear overnight.”

iii.

Harry moves in with Ben until he finds a new place. Apparently he and Louis worked it out so that Louis has the house, since he always valued privacy the most anyway and its location is still undisclosed. Niall kept asking Harry to move in with him, but he insisted that he needed to escape from their bubble of five for right now.

The rest of the meetings were god-awful. They clapped, one of their handlers _fucking clapped_ , when Louis broke it. He was even sitting next to Harry when he said it, because they said that they still wanted to present as a team, especially for this, and the handler let a sigh of relief loose and _clapped_. Liam yelled at him afterwards. (Niall had never seen him go off on a member of their team before.) And the powers that be insist that they continue heavy closeting techniques, which isn’t surprising, they suppose, but discouraging to hear nonetheless. The onstage restrictions will remain the same as well, because _those_ fans (who are allegedly not true fans at all) will pick up on it if they’re allowed to talk and laugh onstage together, and then they will start coming up with (harmful and oh so dangerous) _theories_ and they will _talk_ and eventually it will lead to Harry and Louis being outed and that, of course, can never happen, because it’s bad for business. God knows that One Direction is indeed one of the biggest businesses that there is.  

Louis pleads for them to at least let him be single for a while, not to renew Eleanor’s contract and let him start fresh, but they insist that that would create unnecessary speculation. Now it’s Harry’s turn to scream at them.

They look confused at this sudden outburst of solidarity, asking if they understood the announcement correctly, and Niall wonders if these kinds of people will ever truly understand.

Harry agrees to another December romance to take the pressure off of Louis for a bit, and as they’re leaving the building Niall hears the two of them arguing before Harry yells, “ _This_ is fucking why,” and storms off to his own car.

That “why” is still unsolved to everyone but Harry and Louis, and they refuse to answer it. No one asks again, of course, but hints are dropped by all three of the other boys at one point or another in the next two months, and each hint either gets ignored or brushed off. “It was mutual.” “That’s beside the point.” “We’ve been over this.” “I don’t hate him, you know.” And finally, “Shut the fuck up before I punch you in the face.” Niall’s favorite.

The three take Louis’ question, to be there and hold their hands when they need it, to heart. Liam and Zayn take the lead, “assigning” one of them to each boy. Liam is to be there for Harry, at four in the afternoon or four in the morning, for whatever he needs. Zayn is to do the same for Louis. (But would it have been anyone else even if they hadn’t designated him?) They dub Niall as a floater (Not a mediator, a floater, because he “isn’t supposed to meddle.”) because he’s too invested to be attached to an individual boy, apparently.

They’re all still friends, still the five of them, of course. And Liam and Zayn are no more loyal to their respective focus than they are to the other. They’re just there for them, there to be reliable. But Niall can’t help but notice that outings (private, of course, God forbid all five members of a band be seen at a public event together) and dinners involving all five are much more infrequent now. Most of the time it’s Harry and Liam and Niall or Louis and Liam and Zayn or Harry and Zayn and Niall, or any of the other possibilities out there. They never leave any one lad out, of course, but all five of them together are a bit strained.

Because even though Harry and Louis insist that they still care for each other and have no hard feelings, things are very different. Zayn doesn’t have to chuck all of his throw pillows in their entangled faces any more, for one thing, and Niall never shows up unannounced at (now only) Louis’ house only to hear things he never ever wanted to hear. And it’s not just physical. They were attached at the hip, the two of them. Always touching, always checking up on each other, always answering the other’s phone calls and text messages, always stealing food off of each other’s plates. That doesn’t happen anymore. It’s like they’re living their onstage restrictions in private now.

Most notably, Harry and Louis have both been wearing long-sleeved shirts, buttoned all the way up. The shirts aren’t so uncharacteristic of Harry, but it’s going to be summer where they’re going and neither has indicated that their wardrobe will be changing. (Niall wants to give them a hug.) Harry told Liam and Niall once, over takeaway at Liam’s house, that he stands in the shower and scrubs, he scrubs hard and violently and angrily at his arms, that he wants the markings he shares with Louis to disappear into his skin forever. (They’re drunk when he says this. He would never admit something so disturbing about their split when sober. Yet he still won’t tell them what, exactly, makes him feel this way.)

Harry (soberly) insists to Niall that it’s going to change eventually, that they just need to give them a bit of time now, for closure and all that. Louis tells him the same. Somehow, Niall knows that they’re just doing it so he doesn’t take it too hard. That even though Louis snapped and insisted there would be no coddling of third parties going on, that’s exactly what’s happening anyway.

The thing is, though, is that there are no third parties. The breakup, regardless of how amicable it seems, shook the group of five to the core and no one could escape the aftershocks.

iv.

It turns out that the order for their stage interaction to remain restricted is unnecessary anyway, because by the time tour rehearsals roll around in the middle of January, Harry and Louis purposefully suggest choreography that places them away from each other. Or maybe not away from each other, but closer to the other boys, and their suggestions never include their ex.

_Their ex_. God, that’s weird for Niall to comprehend. He’s had to adjust his way of thinking, ever since their announcement, and it’s still so strange. One Direction is different now, let alone Harry, Louis, Niall, Liam, and Zayn. They’re different, and they’ll never be the same.

Liam muses one night that he thinks they insisted that they’re still friends, that they’ll always be a part of each other, and that they still have feelings of love for each other not for the sake of the three of them, as they had originally implied, but for themselves. He muses that maybe their idea of closure still involved the constant stream of reassurance from the other, and now that they’re starting to come to grips with the fact that their breakup actually happened, they’re starting to move on.

Zayn says that it’s deep. Niall says that he wants to puke.

When the tour ends, apparently Harry is going to start living in LA full time. They’ve all come to grips with the fact that this is going to be their last tour, for the next few years at least, and that there’s only one album left. He says that he doesn’t mind flying back and forth for the writing and recording process, and that he’d rather not go through the hassle of buying a new place. He can’t (and doesn’t want to) live with Ben forever, and his home in California works just fine.

Liam says that he’s immersing himself into another part of his life, letting a seed that had been planted last year start to sprout. He says not to worry, that Harry has reassured him he’s not plotting any evil I’m Going Solo Right This Second and You Can’t Stop Me plans over there, just that he has friends and a house and an office in a songwriting studio and that he likes it. (Also the motorbike, the motorbike is a big thing apparently.)

Zayn says that at least he’s not doing coke. Niall says that he’s running away from Louis and his problems. (And that a motorbike can be purchased in London or even transported across the Atlantic.)

This is all said when the three get together one night, to discuss how each of them is doing (Not because it is their personal business, Liam insists, but because they’re leaving to Australia next week and need to understand how everything is going to play out.) and formulate a plan of action for the next two months. And that is when Niall finally realizes, finally comes to grips with what Liam and Zayn accepted before they knew, that Harry and Louis really aren’t, or weren’t, going to be together forever, that they weren’t some fairytale perfect couple, but real people. Real people, who fall madly in love and settle into a comfortable and companionable relationship and who eventually discover that they’re incompatible in some (still mysterious) way and inevitably have a falling out.

And that when they fall out, things can never be the same.

Maybe it’s good that they’re going on hiatus after the fifth album.

Niall knows that because of what’s happened in the past few months that they’re probably never going to reunite. (Except maybe when they’re old and wrinkly and Harry and Louis have moved on and fallen in love and gotten married and had babies with other men who aren’t Louis and Harry and can actually actively enjoy each other’s company again.)  

v.

They’re in Sydney, and backstage is buzzing. They love the city, all five of them. Sydney, and Australia as a whole, is where wonderful things happen and it probably makes all of their lists of favorite countries. Niall is itching to get onstage again and so is everyone else.

The only damper on tonight is that Magee and Griffiths flew out. It’s not incredibly out of character, Niall supposes, considering that they flew out to South America last year for the kickoff of that tour, but their presence is unwelcome anyway.

Zayn is bitter, pissed even, and has a few theories.

“They want to make sure that they’re doing ‘okay,’ I think. That they’re not going to be so incredibly hostile onstage and fuck everything up.”

And they aren’t. They’re the same as they were during Where We Are and Take Me Home, minus the stolen fond glances and occasional innuendos. They’re actually playing exactly how those at Modest! had always wanted them to, as several of their agents had seen during rehearsals, so why they felt the need to send the big guys in is unfathomable to Niall.

“Or they want to make sure that they’re not going out to bars and clubs and getting drunk and fucking random guys. They’re probably sure that that would be just as bad, if not worse, than if they were actually still together.”

And again, they aren’t. As far as Niall (and Liam and Zayn) knows, Harry and Louis haven’t touched anyone else since they split. Harry says that he isn’t ready and doesn’t need it and wouldn’t want Louis to find out. Louis says that he’s taking a break from men altogether for the foreseeable future. (That’s the closest that Niall’s ever got to anything anywhere in the ballpark of why they broke up or the circumstances surrounding the tipping point.)

“Or,” Zayn ponders, taking a drag of his cigarette outside of the stage door, “They want to double-check that this wasn’t a huge farce on them or that they haven’t gotten back together.”

And, lastly, they aren’t. Niall doesn’t ask because he’s learning to accept the status quo, and, more importantly, he doesn’t want to press his friends on something that, despite their continued protestations, is still a touchy subject. But Harry and Louis have started giving each other their things back. When the five of them go to dinner or have rehearsals, one of them will always show up with a shirt or a book or a poster to give the other and it will be accepted with a simple, “Thanks, mate.” There are no pretenses and no obvious hopes for something to rekindle.

It is what it is.

And they perform, and it is electric, being on stage again, Niall feels as he takes the crowd by storm with his guitar during their latest single. The crowd is cheering, the fan action is touching, and it’s really, truly amazing to be back in their element.

But it isn’t an escape from the past two months. Because despite how much fun all three of them are having right now, it’s different.

There are a few songs that are particularly painful. _Strong_ , Niall thinks, is the worst. They hadn’t wanted to perform it. Louis called him at three in the morning once, begging him to band up with him and ask that they not perform it. Harry had called him later that afternoon, asking the same. All five of them had suggested that perhaps it was best not to perform it. (Because it was written for Harry, and it will never not be Harry’s Song.) The executive with the final say in the setlist had put his foot down, though. All five of them had received a talking-to about professionalism and blah and blah and blah. The song had done too well, particularly in Australia and New Zealand, they had been told, to not perform it. It would raise questions if they didn’t perform it. Harry had piped up and said that perhaps one raised question wouldn’t be the end of the world. (It’s number nine on the setlist.)

There’s no anger surrounding the song, nor any sadness. But there’s tension that no one can really put their finger on. Rehearsals weren’t so bad, beyond the first time, because it was just the five of them, and they were able to work through that and experiment with choreography to make it better.

The crowd goes wild when the telling first few bars start and Louis looks like he’s going to hurl when Liam starts his verse. Niall swings an arm around his shoulder casually, in their usual mates’ sort of way. Louis falls into him as they canter down the steps and begin the chorus.

_“I’m sorry if I say I need you_

_But I don’t care_

_I’m not scared of love._

_‘Cause when I’m not with you I’m weaker_

_Is that so wrong?_

_Is it so wrong?_

_That you make me strong.”_

Louis stops singing after the first two lines. He laughs it off, pretending to cough, but turns so his back is facing Niall and is certainly far away from Harry’s gaze. Niall doesn’t want to, he tries to hold it back, because they’re onstage and surrounded by 50,000 fans, but his head jerks toward Harry anyway and sees that he’s (probably too) overly engaged with a few fans by the catwalk now, joking with them and reading a sign.

Niall still doesn’t understand.

vi.

There’s an air of anxiety backstage after the show, and Niall is in his dressing room putting things away when Zayn and Liam enter and approach him.

“We have to say something,” Liam says. “I don’t – I don’t know what happened out there.”

Zayn puts his barely-lit cigarette butt out on the edge of Niall’s vanity. “’S just weird. Wasn’t like that during rehearsals. I think we should see if he’s okay.”

They leave and round the corner to Louis’ dressing room. (It’s the first time that they’ve had to request five instead of four.) They pass Harry, who’s currently being lauded and praised by Magee for the “stellar production” _he_ “put on tonight.” (Magee has never approached any of them after a performance.) Harry looks uncomfortable and makes pleading eye contact with Niall as they cross each other. (Harry never asked for any of this, Niall thinks.)

Zayn raps on Louis’ open door softly before the three of them walk in. Louis is bent across his vanity, scrubby a particularly stubborn patch of foundation off of his face with a wipe. “Good show, lads,” he says, not looking up.

They close in around him, although not in a suffocating manner. They’re just there.

“Good to be back onstage,” Niall offers.

Liam gives Louis’ shoulder a squeeze but Louis jerks away a bit more harshly than his earlier tone of voice indicated.

Zayn leans down so he and his best friend are face-to-face. “Tommo, we’re worried, mate. Just talk to us. What can we do for you?”

Louis stands up straighter and tosses the wipe to the side. “Calm yourselves, for one. I’m fine.”

He’s met with silence and concerned stares.

Louis sighs deeply and messes around with the in-ears draped around his neck. “Give me – give _us_ – time, for Christ’s sake. It’s not going to be easy, Jesus, you should know that. But we’ll get there.”

“That’s not what we’re asking, Louis,” Liam says, putting his hand back on him. “We’re asking what we can do for you. If you’re okay.”

He drops his head to the counter and groans. And for the first time, ever since they announced their breakup, Louis utters, “I’m not okay.”

Niall presses a kiss to Louis’ head as he heaves beneath them.

“Okay. Thanks for telling us that. What can we do?” Zayn asks softly.

“I don’t fucking know.” He looks up and into the mirror, the four of them falling into its range. Louis has bags under his eyes, his face is pale and waned, and he hasn’t looked this stressed since last summer. “I can’t fucking handle this anymore.” (Another first.)

“What do you mean by ‘this’?” Niall murmurs.

“The bullshit, the lies, everything. We’ve just woven ourselves into a deeper web than ever before. I can’t live like this.”

They sit like that for five, ten, fifteen minutes, all of them taking turns rubbing circles into Louis’ back until he calms down. He cracks some inane joke eventually and everyone laughs. The mood is lightened.

“Let’s go clubbing tonight,” Zayn suggests. (It’s a risk, Niall knows, but it’s a suggestion that has been on the tip of everyone’s tongue for a while now.) “You don’t even have to do anything. Just let someone buy you a drink, flirt, dance with us, and call it good.”

Louis laughs again, with a tinge of bitterness to his voice. “I can’t do that. You know that.”

“Oh my God, it isn’t the end of the world if you’re seen a little cozy with a man, especially if you’re grinding up on two or three of us right after.” Liam claps him on the back. “And besides, listen, I don’t know if you want to hear this right now, but we have less than a year left. Louis, you realize that the end of this – the hiding, the lies, all that crap – could be near, right? So you absolutely can let an attractive, hunky Aussie man who probably doesn’t even know who you are buy you a pint.”

Louis pauses, looking at all of them through the mirror for a moment before uttering, “I’m not going to be coming out to the public for a while.”

Niall scoffs and gives him a friendly punch. “Of course you will. Are you going to keep your eventual arm-candy hidden forever?”

Louis tightens up more than he already was and clasps his hands together like so. “Well that’s not going to happen, actually, because apparently I am unable to commit.”

“Who the fuck told you that?” (Niall knows that Louis Tomlinson is the exact opposite of ‘unable to commit.’ When he loves, he loves fiercely and possessively, in the most positive and nurturing manner possible.)

“Mr. Harry Styles, that’s who.”

Zayn groans loudly and drops his head between his knees.

“Harry told you that you were unable to commit?” Liam asks incredulously, a look of surprise crossing his face.

“Uh huh. Then I told him to go fuck himself. Naturally, he said, and I quote, ‘I’d much rather fuck you.’ So I flat out told him. ‘You just sunk that ship, bud.’” Louis puffs out, trying to look proud (Niall knows that he’s still sad, though.).

“…So that’s how it happened?” Zayn sits back up again.

“ _Obviously_ we weren’t fucking wildly as per usual in one second and me telling him to go fuck _himself_ in the next. But if you asked me when we broke up, I would give you that moment.”

“Do you feel like elaborating?” Zayn prods him.

“I guess.” Louis takes a few deep breaths and steadies both of his hands against the vanity’s counter. “Okay, wow, yeah, I’m telling you this. He…he wanted to get married. Get engaged proper. He asked me, you know. Made a whole production of it one evening over dinner and all.”

And the world stops, because Niall knows that he won’t be able to fathom anything else that comes out of Louis’ mouth tonight, because _what the ever-loving fuck is this admission_?

All three of them gape at each other before exclaiming, nearly in unison, “You said no?!”

“Yes, you fucking idiots, I said no,” Louis snaps, wringing his hands together and starting to tidy up his station.

All he’s met with is more silence. (Why would Louis say no? Niall thinks.)

“Apparently I have to spell things out to everyone in my life now.” He sighs, frustrated and sarcastic. “You have to understand. I…didn’t want to half-arse this thing. I didn’t want to marry him if I couldn’t tell the world. I didn’t want to spin a web more complicated than we have now, and it happened anyway.”

And Louis is crying, and Niall is crying, and Liam is crying, and Zayn is crying. They’re all holding Louis in some way, shape, or form.

“We started arguing about it.” Louis grabs a tissue and tries to wipe his eyes, because it’s no use, because now that the floodgates have opened they can’t be stopped. “He said that marriage is between two people, only two people and those close to them. I said that I agreed, but I think that it’s more than that, too. He asked how long it was going to be, and I told him to propose again the day after we come out. He said that he couldn’t wait. That we’d waited long enough and that we deserve this.”

Niall registers a movement in the doorway but keeps his eyes and hands on Louis.

“So I said that we obviously have very different ideas of what a committed relationship looks like.”

“And then he said…” Liam trails off.

“Yeah, then he told me that I’m incapable of committing to someone if I rely on ‘validation’ from ‘strangers.’ So that was that, and here we are today, with me having to sing to tens of thousands of people about knowing commitment in front of a man who claims that I have none.”

There’s another movement behind them and the person coughs.

Louis wipes his eyes again, more frantically this time. “Hi, Harry.” He grabs a hair brush and starts brushing his hair back before slipping a headband on.

The other three look at him, smiling weakly and eyes downcast. Niall worries, because he doesn’t want it to look like they’re taking sides. They aren’t. They came to Louis because he needed them in this moment, but he just as much wants to run over to Harry and wrap his arms around him and never let go. They are just in such a difficult place right now, and Niall doesn’t know how to handle it.

Harry coughs again. “Hi, Louis.” He shifts, and directs his next statement to the other three. “Right. Well, you’ve heard one side.” He steps out quietly and Niall hears his feet pad down to his dressing room at the other end of the hall.

And Niall knows that he has to hear the other side, because everything is such a mess right now. Harry wanted to marry Louis. And Louis didn’t not want to marry Harry. But he couldn’t marry Harry right now. And Niall can understand that, but he can also understand why Harry just wanted to do it already. (He has a headache.)

Liam gets up as if he’s going to go follow Harry, but Paul pops his head in and says that they’re heading to the hotel now, and Louis and Zayn have to go get in one car with Harry, Niall, and Liam in another.

Of course. Because it still has to look like certain band members hate the others. (But no one _hates_ each other. Right?)

vii.

Niall knocks on Harry’s door later that night once they’re all settled. Louis didn’t end up going out, much to nobody’s surprise. No one else did, either. Liam and Zayn are in the gym, he thinks, and Louis is probably holed up with Netflix and beer. But Niall needs to talk to Harry.

Harry opens, his hair pulled back in a ponytail and body decked out in a sweatshirt and joggers. There’s a half-eaten pizza on one bed and the comforter thrown back on the other. The room is dim, with only the light from the wide-open toilet shining in it.

“Sorry. Were you sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and steps aside to let Niall in. “I wasn’t mad, earlier,” Harry says, right from the start.

“I didn’t think you were.” Niall kicks his slippers off and strides over to the bed Harry claimed as his own, flopping down on it. ( _On Louis’ side_ , he tries not to think.)

Harry follows him slowly, crawling up onto the bed. “I wish he’d told me, though. That he was going to tell you all everything. We’d said we were going to keep that quiet until at least everything settled down.”

Niall shrugs into the comfortable bed and flips onto his stomach, face turning to Harry. “It just kind of came out. We were worried, you know, after the show. About the both of you, but mostly him.”

Harry closes his eyes and nods, curling in closer to Niall. “I was too. I was going to talk to him when I walked in on you.”

“Okay.” He pulls Harry into an embrace and turns him around so they’re spooning. (It’s weird, Harry being the little spoon. Niall is always the little spoon.) “You can tell me, if you want. How it happened for you.”

Harry takes a deep breath and holds it before letting it out. “He didn’t want to marry me.”

( _He did_ , Niall wants to say. _He just couldn’t, couldn’t right now_. But he doesn’t, he keeps quiet and lets Harry continue.)

“We’d been talking about it forever, you know that. All of you know that. It wasn’t _if_ , it was _when_. That’s what I thought at least. And I just wanted – I wanted to be engaged to him so badly. I wanted to start planning a wedding. We finally could, is the thing, and I put it off for nine months after I bought the ring before I finally put an evening together.”

He stops and takes a few shaky breaths. Niall squeezes him tight. ( _I’m sorry_.)

“And it was so perfect, it was so perfect, Niall.” (Harry is crying, and Niall feels his tears splash down onto his own hands.) “Until he said no. He took my head in his hands and kissed me and told me that he loved me and wants to love me until the end of time, but that he couldn’t marry me right now. I got defensive, maybe too quickly, because I was so confused. We got into it, like you heard, I guess. Louis didn’t lie. He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. He didn’t put a spin on it. Know that, Niall.

It just – it was a lot more than a big party and fancy suits and the like. I mean, we might be young and rich and carefree, but I still think of all the what ifs, like what if I get hurt, what if I die, what if all of that happens to Louis? I know that he can take care of himself, obviously. But what if I get sick? If I go to the hospital? And it’s just…marriage is so much more than the fluffy stuff, that’s fun, but it was really important to me to get to the other stuff, too.”

“I know.”

“So we talked about it. And we fought about it. I said – I said it then, that he couldn’t commit. I tried to play it off as a joke, right after I saw how it affected him, but then I think we both realized how true it was. What I meant was that he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , commit like I needed him to. We’ve talked about it since, you know. I apologized. But the words are still there, I guess, and even after I brought it up again we still know that we’re not compatible in that way.” Harry presses his face into the mattress and Niall is left stroking his hair.

(This isn’t right.)

“I know that this might sound dumb – why would we end it all after one botched proposal? But things had been tense with us for a while, because I didn’t want to just drop it on him. So I kept bringing it up lightly before I actually did it, you know, asking him what kind of rings he liked, even though I already had one, asking him about where he wanted to get married, where to go after. And he never reacted positively, that should have been my clue. I should have tried to talk it out before doing it.

He left one night, packed a bag and went to Zayn’s for a day and a half. It was just a little fight, completely unrelated to marriage or anything, but I know that that was the undercurrent. But then he came back, and we had amazing, loving sex, and I thought it was all good.”

( _It wasn’t_.) Niall breathes him in as he keeps crying. He’s unable to continue talking (although there may not be anything left to say) and just sobs. He whispers, but Niall isn’t sure if the words escaping his mouth are meant for him (“I still love him,” “I miss him,” “I want him to hold me.”) Niall just lies there and rocks him through it, wrapping his arms around him and moving like he does when Theo is inconsolable.   

Eventually Harry calms down, and Niall thinks that he might be asleep. He shifts a little, trying to check, and Harry turns his head to him. “Thank you,” he says softly.

Niall presses his mouth to Harry’s temple. “Can I ask you something?”

Harry nods underneath him.

“Why didn’t you talk about this from the beginning? Why did you two keep this in for so long?” He rubs his arm gently. “I don’t like thinking about you carrying this around in pain for the past two months.”

“We told our mums.”

“Okay. Good.”

Harry disentangles himself from Niall a bit and lies flat on his back. “I think that it feels very real now.”

Niall nods, although Harry probably can’t see him in the dark. “That makes sense.”

A few minutes pass. “You can take some pizza, if you want.”

Niall isn’t particularly hungry, but he gets up and grabs a slice anyway for something to do. He crawls back with Harry, chewing, and the other boy flips the telly on to some inane sitcom. They lie in silence for a while, Niall finishing off the pizza and the two of them getting through four or five episodes of the show.

Harry goes for a wee and when he comes back he pulls his sweatshirt off, getting back in bed. “You can stay, if you want,” he says, the first thing spoken between them in hours. Niall obliges, pulling his own shirt and trousers off before burrowing even deeper into the comforter.

Just before he drifts off, he hears Harry mumble, “I think that it feels very dumb now.”

viii.

Niall wishes he could say that things get better, the air is cleared, and everyone can start to move on after Harry and Louis’ reveal that first night of the tour. Niall wishes that he and Zayn and Liam and Harry and Louis start to accept that the situation is what it is and begin to progress from where they are. Niall can’t say that. Everything is sadder and more somber now, and no one can pinpoint exactly why. No one is angry, but what little pep Harry and Louis still had within them is gone. They go through the motions, performing and occasionally making paparazzi appearances, but for the most part they throw themselves into the gym (alone), into their sleep, and into solitude.

As per usual, Zayn has a theory.

“It’s more real now.” (Like Harry said.) “I don’t know that they’re second-guessing, but the reality of it is hitting and it’s a decision they have to live with and that everyone else knows about.”

And that’s true. Everything is out in the open, with no more pretenses, and Niall, Zayn, and Liam can’t be brushed off with a simple, “That’s not important,” or “You don’t need to know that.” The breakup itself is more real, because as much as the reasoning hurts and makes everyone cry, it’s…it’s respectable reasoning. Niall bucked at it the morning after he talked to Harry, but he and the other two discussed it and they realized that they could very much see it as a breaking point in the relationship. They had told Harry and Louis that when asked, that they accept their reasoning as brothers should and that they’re still here for each of them.

So it hurts, but it’s real.

To be honest, though, Niall doesn’t quite agree with Zayn on the second-guessing part. He tells him as much, and Liam laughs bitterly before pressing him into a tight embrace. “Life isn’t one of those fanfictions, Niall. People split up and soulmates aren’t a sure thing, and sometimes people just don’t fit. It’s sad, but it’s life. And honestly, now that we have the full story, I feel a lot better about it.”

Zayn puts out his cigarette against the Adelaide hotel’s balcony railing. “’M with Liam. I was worried, for a bit, the way they were being so secretive about it. I thought someone had gone off and cheated or summat.”

Niall is aghast. “You were off your rocker, then.”

Zayn shrugs. “You never know. They were being sketchy. I was working with what I had.”

(So then Niall realizes that Zayn’s theories aren’t always right. He wants to repeat, drill it in, that he thinks they are second-guessing, that they do regret splitting up for good and making such a Big Deal about it. He remembers how Harry cried into his arms nearly ten days ago now, how he had sobbed about missing and loving and wanting Louis. But that information isn’t his to give, so he stays quiet on the matter.)

It isn’t any better onstage, either, although they’re developing coping methods. Louis has been able to sing all of his solos without as much of a problem as he did in the beginning. This is good, Niall thinks, because the fans online had picked up on it – an entire debate had ensued, with some people who insisted that Harry and Louis were together claiming that there was “trouble in paradise” (If only they knew.) and some insisting that the others were making mountains out of molehills and that he had something in his throat. (Both are right, in a way.) It’s just different. And that’s all they can hope for, really.

Harry, on the other hand, actually does get ill during their first date in Japan. (All Niall can think of is how amazing Japan was for Harry and Louis in 2013, where one of the many informal proposals that they threw each other’s way took place.) He’s hacking up a lung onstage and for the first time ever, Louis doesn’t get sick alongside him.

It gets really bad in the middle of the show, and Harry had assumed that he could push through his solos, so they hadn’t taken the time to divide them up amongst the other boys. When they start _You and I_ , then, and Harry cracks right in the beginning of his solo, they share a frantic look to see who can pick it up. Harry’s embarrassed, mad at himself, as he always is when he makes a mistake during a performance, and turns his back to the crowd, trying to regroup.

No one goes to take it right away, and as Niall turns to give a comforting pat to Harry, Louis steps up to his mic and finishes the verse.

_“We can make it till the end_  
 _Nothing can come between_  
 _You and I_  
 _Not even the Gods above can_  
 _Separate the two of us.”_

And Louis stops as the instrumental picks up, where the crowd goes wild and phones are swaying in the dark night, and Harry stays with his back turned even though Niall sees that he’s more than over his slip-up, cradling his head in his hands. Louis casts his eyes down, trying to sing the chorus, but once again unable to form words. (This is a trainwreck, Niall thinks.)

They have to keep moving, though, and Niall, Liam, and Zayn pick up the volume to compensate for the two that are…recovering, or something. The show moves on, though, like it always does. As they drop through the trap doors and offstage when it’s over, Niall scrolls through his phone to tweet the obligatory thank you to the fans. (He’s trying to do it quickly so Harry doesn’t feel the need.) And it figures, it figures that they’re already talking about what happened during _You and I_.

Jesus. Niall tries to avoid reading the actual content (He’s learning that it’s always better that way.) and closes his phone.

They all walk into the greenroom to grab the dinner that had been ordered for them and decompress on the couch. Niall doesn’t really expect Harry and Louis to stick around for long – they’ve usually been eating quickly and dashing off to their respective dressing rooms for the duration of the tour. But they pick at their food slowly, each on different couches, sitting in silence.

But that isn’t even the strangest part. What’s oddest of all is that they’re stealing silent, quick glances at each other as they take bites of their meals. (This was part of the methodology back when they were together.)

Liam and Zayn pick up on it as well, and soon enough he’s dragged out by them. “Niall, I need your help with something,” Liam says loudly.

Niall follows him into the hall, and a few seconds later Zayn excuses himself for a smoke.

“Need anything?” Harry calls after them, still from the couch.

“’S a guitar thing, don’t worry,” Liam shoots back as Zayn joins them from his roundabout route.

“So,” Liam lets out. “Tonight was weird, yeah?”

Niall scratches the back of his head. “D’you think they’re, you know, reconsidering?”

Zayn sighs and pulls Niall in by the waist, giving him a squeeze. “No, Niall, I think they’re healing. Tonight was weird, especially with the lyrics, but I think it’s good that they’re, y’know, in the same room. It’s getting better.”

Niall pulls back. “I don’t think you’re seeing the full picture, Zayn.”

“I think you’re being too idealistic.”

“Lads.” Liam places a hand on each of their shoulders before their conversation gets any more heated or louder. “This isn’t our discussion to have, really. I just wanted to know if I was seeing things.”

They nod and edge back toward the greenroom but stop as they hear voices inside of it.

“It’s weird, now,” they hear Harry say.

“Dunno if we should’ve told them.”

Liam shifts, pressing into Niall tighter. “Should we be listening?” he whispers. (Of all times to turn back into Daddy Direction.)

Zayn hushes him.

There’s silence for a few moments until Harry speaks again.

“Thanks for that tonight. For covering for me.”

“See?” Zayn hisses. (Now Niall shushes.)

“No, of course, Harry. You shouldn’t beat yourself up, you know. I saw that you were. You’re sick, though, ‘s not your fault.”

“You know how I get.”

“Right, and you never let anyone comfort you. You could start.”

“See?” Niall hisses tauntingly back to Zayn.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Liam warns.

“This is how friends talk,” Zayn adds.

(They’re not friends.)

“’S hard. It’s like, my thing,” Harry says with a laugh.

“I know, Hazza.”

Harry laughs again. “It’s been a while since you called me that.”

Niall starts prodding his friends again.

“Stop!” Liam insists. “Friends.”

(They’re not friends.)

“Yeah, too long. You’re always gonna be Hazza.”

There are a few moments of silence and Niall realizes that he’s holding his breath.

“They’re right outside the door, aren’t they?” Harry asks. (Yes, Niall is definitely holding his breath.)

“I’d wager that.”

“What do we do?”

Well, no one seems to be getting up to yell at them and throw things in their faces, so Niall, Liam, and Zayn stay put for the time being.

“Don’t really care,” Louis says.

“Mmm, keep talking,” Harry counters with another laugh that turns into a cough, and soon he’s hacking up half of a lung.

They hear Louis jump up and scurry around the room, probably grabbing tissues or cough drops for him.

“Thanks, Boo.”

“It was your turn to talk.”

“I just did.”

Niall’s breath is still erratic and he’s slapping his hands against Liam and Zayn’s backs frantically.

Liam slaps him back.

“Are we still weird now?” Louis asks, and Niall hears a small plop on the couch that Harry’s sitting on. “I mean, we’ll always be weird. But, you know, we’ve been weirder than weird for the past few days.”

“Should we have told them everything?”

“That’s what made it off, innit? I thought that it would make it better. At least that’s what I was going for, in the moment.”

“I know. It’s okay. I don’t think we should’ve kept quiet about it from the start like we did. Maybe making it a big reveal like that made it a bigger deal than it should have been.”

“I think…” Louis trails off and falls silent.

“What, Lou?”

Niall hears a sharp intake of breath from inside of the greenroom. “I think that telling them made it real, and I think making it real made me think about it more, really think about it, and I think that making me think about it more made me realize how fucking dumb it all is, not that we aren’t justified in what we felt, but that it was dumb to think that it was a dealbreaker.”

“We should leave,” Zayn says abruptly.

(Of course he needs to get out as soon as things go against his predictions.)

“No,” Liam answers.

“What do you mean, no?” Zayn turns around and starts pushing them back toward the dressing room.

“We hear you,” Harry hollers weakly, his voice cracking. (From his health or emotion, Niall doesn’t know.)

“We’re leaving,” Zayn calls out.

He keeps pushing them back, and as they move into Liam’s room Niall starts chanting, “I told you, I told you, I told you.” (He’s giddy.)

“Shut it,” Liam says, falling into his couch and throwing his face into a pillow.

“Talking it out doesn’t mean anything,” Zayn says. “I mean, it could be a friend thing.” His voice wavers, though.

(They’re not friends.)

ix.

Things start changing again in Tokyo. Harry and Louis had never said anything about them overhearing the conversation and they never find out about what was said after they left. But they take their time in the greenroom again for the second Osaka show (although the other three don’t leave that time).

The atmosphere changes for who-knows-what time, but it’s more skewed now. It’s like Harry and Louis are orbiting each other again, in the way that only they can, but from an outsider’s point of view, they’re still quite separated. (Niall can’t explain it.)

They take the stage and Harry is smiling. He’s his usual bubbly self, interacting with the crowd and jumping around. Louis is different, too. He was never as bouncy as Harry but there’s an air of his old exuberance left in him, making faces at and teasing the fans on a more personal level.

Niall, Liam, and Zayn are shooting each other looks throughout, confused but not unhappy. (The internet will go wild with it, Niall knows.)

_Strong_ is still off, though, but again, in a different way than before. Louis sings his verse fully, but he seems hesitant, like he isn’t allowed to go all the way or something, and Harry is orbiting as if he were unsure if he’s allowed to be happy during this.

Later that night in the hotel, Niall is up and walking down to Liam’s room because they got their toiletry bags mixed up somehow in the flight over from Osaka. He hears a bang behind him, though, and whips around to see a cursing Louis checking his door. He doesn’t see Niall, but Niall stays put and watches him pad two doors down…to Harry’s room. The door opens for him and he slips in quietly.

And, well, there’s that.

Despite his best efforts, Niall can’t keep the grin off his face over breakfast with everyone the next morning. They hadn’t intended on a big group meal, it isn’t in character for them, especially these days, but Liam had ordered a great big bunch of room service up to his room and everyone ends up filtering in somehow. Harry and Louis don’t come in together, but they don’t follow too far behind each other, either.

“Why so happy, Niall?” Zayn asks with a grumble as he pours himself a cup of black coffee.

“Nothing,” he mumbles innocently as he bites into a blueberry scone.

Louis gives him a shove. “Why’re you grinning?” (And so is Louis.)

Niall shrugs and brushes crumbs off of the bed. “Had a good night.”

“So did I,” Harry says, much louder than necessary, and four pairs of eyes turn to him. (Louis’ poker face is mediocre at best.)

“Whaaat?” Harry drawls in his signature manner. “A lad can’t have a good sleep?”

Zayn looks from Harry, to Louis, to Niall’s cheesy grin and falls into a pillow, laughing. “You just gave yourself away,” he says, muffled.

And at that, Louis launches across at Zayn and traps him in a headlock until he cries for mercy. They straighten up eventually, Louis throwing a cherry tomato across at Zayn’s face.

A few moments of silence pass and they’re all staring at each other in incredulity. “So?” Liam finally asks, directing the question at Harry and Louis.

And Louis launches himself again, but this time he’s careening into the person right next to him, right into Harry. They topple against the side of the bed, laughing into each other as Louis burrows his face into the crook of Harry’s neck.

They pull back up, still with tunnel vision, grabbing at each other’s hair like goons.

(Niall thinks that he might cry.)

Harry _is_ crying, though, his eyes tearing up and letting a few drop onto Louis’ hands. Louis wipes them away and hesitates for just a second before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He whispers something into Harry’s ear and pulls back, fixing his own hair before turning to the rest with a grin.

“We talked,” he says simply, grabbing Harry’s hand.

“And it’s just…worked out?” Zayn asks, a grin spread across his face.

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand. “It’s, like, not perfect. But we’re gonna make it work just yet. You’re not rid of _this_ just yet.” He tips his head into the crook of Louis’ neck and starts kissing him all over, sucking a lovebite into his skin.

Louis jerks away from him playfully, giggling and planting a great big kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, you know,” he tells the other three.

“For what?” Niall asks, feeling as if a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.

“For, like, weaseling the truth out of us eventually. Because I think, you know, that we avoiding talking about it to other people after the initial blowup because it would have meant addressing it again and a lot more difficult conversation coming up. There were a lot of hard things we had to bring up to get through it. We did, though, eventually, and it’s better now.”

Harry nods in assent. “What he said.”

And Niall grins, and he wipes the corny as hell tears away from his eyes, and leaps into the middle of the bed, urging the other four lads to follow him and create a pile of joy. He’s sweating, stuffed, and has Liam’s elbow digging into the small of his back with Harry’s arms wrapped around his neck, but all five are happy together again, and there isn’t anywhere else that he’d rather be.

(Liam’s elbow, though, really might cut off the circulation in his spine and paralyze him.) “Oi, Liam!” he shouts, shifting into a slightly more physically comfortable position. “I would like to take the time to thank myself for this happy ending,” he pronounces from the bottom of the pile. “Because you should all know that I never doubted you two for a second, that you would crawl back to each other eventually, even though two other people here tried to make me ‘see the light’ and all that other crap. So my positive energy was a good thing after all, you tossers.”

He feels Harry squeeze tighter around him in an embracing sort of way. “There’s no use arguing with that,” he says. “So thanks, mate.”

“Ditto,” Louis squeaks from somewhere at the other end of the pile.

(They’re not friends.)

x.

They can’t come out, of course, and go run off and get married somewhere like some would expect their fairytale ending to be. In time, Harry comes to understand Louis’ point of view regarding the wedding, the marriage itself, and the semi-public nature of it that’s important to him. (Louis is so private, that when he wants something to be public, there must be a reason.) And in time, Louis comes to understand why a legal binding is so important to Harry – why he “wants to make an honest man out of him,” in Harry’s own words. (They can say that they’re a family, their friends know that they’re a family, but the law and the country doesn’t know that just yet.)

After many long conversations (from what Niall can tell, being next door to them throughout the tour and all) and solo trips to the gym (It’s a good coping mechanism, they say, for the closet and the fame and all of these discussions.), they call another meeting and say that they’ve reached a compromise for the time being.

“Civil partnerships are a thing, you know,” Louis states as they’re all sprawled out in his and Harry’s hotel room in Manila. “They’re legal things, and they mean something, but they also seem a lot more…private, for what we need right now.”

Harry pulls Louis into his lap on the bed. “So mark your calendars for April tenth, if you will. We need witnesses and since we need one we might as well take three.”

Louis turns up and presses a kiss to Harry’s jawline and Niall thinks that his heart might burst. “We’ll go out and get proper pissed after and everything. Consider it a warm-up for what’s to come in the future, because trust us, that’s going to be one fucking party.”

Two years later (when everyone is settling into a life a little more out of the spotlight than before), surrounded by everyone’s family and friends right in the heart of Doncaster, it sure as hell is.

(They let Niall hold the rings.)


End file.
